The Past is not a Present
by Reality-is-not-real
Summary: On the surface, Natasha is cold, talented, and unbreakable. But appearances can be deceiving...Based on a prompt by brilliant-but-scary-bad-wolf


Handcuffs

All it took was a particularly grueling mission in Russia. That was all it took for her old habit from decades ago to kick back in. Who knew that handcuffs could leave such a lasting imprint?

Agent Natasha Romanoff had gone deep undercover in Leningrad to uncover information about an important Russian government official, and it was agony. The mission was alright, and as usual the Black Widow had succeeded. The debrief with Fury was quick, and Natasha quietly trudged back to the Avengers Tower, where the rest of the Avengers would gladly welcome her in and ask about her mission. Usually, returning home considerably lighten her dark moods that accompanied any of her Russian missions. However, tonight was nowhere near usual.

The redhead, masking her emotions, entered the tower with Jarvis softly saying, "Welcome home, Agent Romanoff." She wandered into the living room and waved at her teammates, who were all piled on Tony's couch and arguing while watching the latest action movie. Both Thor and Steve were asleep, and Bruce was nowhere to be found. Probably in the lab then. Clint, who had been squished into the middle, tried to get up to greet his best friend. He started to pout when he found out that his attempts were futile. Looking at Clint's struggle, Natasha shot Clint a smirk and retorted, "Hey there, Hot Shot. Looking cozy, aren't we?"

"Come on, Tasha. Help me! At least threaten one of them to scoot over so I can get out of this mess. Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaassssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Tasha!", Clint whined. Tony responded by throwing an arm over Clint's face and wriggling around.

"Getting comfortable, Barton?"

"Shove off, Stark. Hey Nat, how was your mission? You were in Russia for an awful long time, longer than you've ever been actually. You okay?"

Natasha quickly plastered on a smile, and replied, "I'm tired. Jet lag and all. I'm going to bed now. G'night boys." She quickly went back to her floor, and locked the bedroom door as soon as she got in. The lock couldn't prevent any other Avengers from coming in, but it stopped any potential invaders and that, in a way, made her feel a tiny bit safer.

Natasha groaned and collapsed in bed. Tonight was a danger night, for sure. She felt her eyes closing, then shot up and started to frantically search for the pair of handcuffs she had nicked from S.H.I.E.L.D.. After locating it, she heaved a sigh and laid back down, feeling the cool metal around her wrist and drifting off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Tony and Clint were still arguing. An hour later, both Steve and Thor had gotten tired of them and gone back to their floors to continue their slumber. Clint suddenly stopped bickering with Tony and tilted his head. "Tony?"

"What, Barton? You wanna confess your undying love for me? I know you want to."

Clint grimaced, mimed puking, then replied, "All jokes aside, though, Tasha never answered my question. Did she?". Tony frowned and shook his head.

"Hey Barton, you should go get some sleep. Your eyes are drooping, bro. We have a mission soon, yeah? Go get some beauty sleep, you'll need it."

"Says you, Stark. Anyway, see ya." Clint yawned and headed back to his floor.

A few hours later, Natasha was having a nightmare. _A four-year old Natalia Romanova trembled and whispered in Russian, "Mama? Papa? Wake up! Please! Please wake up!". She quickly looked up and saw a large figure looming over her, and screamed. "I-I-I'm not afraid to hurt you! Don't touch me, you monster!". The figure chucked darkly and a large hand reached out to grab her. She couldn't move at all. Suddenly, she was in a room full of other girls who were all older than she was. She was a bit older too, maybe five or six years old. The Red Room had no record of her birthday. Two older girls stepped into a ring, and everybody crowded around to watch. Natalia was shoved towards the front by the headmistress who had a harsh glare. Natalia whimpered, and a hard hit to her head was quickly administered. The two girls stared at each other, emotionless, cold, calculating. They swung into action, fists flying, bones cracking, quick footsteps of small feet, quiet inhales and small gasps of pain, until it was all over. Two bloodied little girls, one dead and one alive. No one cheered, no one cried. Natalia shivered and tried to look away, but someone had a firm grasp on her head. The scene changed, and now Natalia was in the ring. A little bigger and older and wiser, and not as innocent. This was her first fight, and she was determined to win. A flurry of movements later, Natalia found herself in a headlock, gasping for breath, seeing dark spots as a girl, much older than her, gripped tightly. Natalia thought over and over, "I don't wanna die I don't wanna die die die die die." As her eyes started to close, the grip slackened a little bit, and Natalia immediately burst into action. Soon, the other girl was dead and Natalia laid on the cold ground, clad in nothing but a thin shirt and shorts and blood. All she saw was her headmistress staring down, and then she was suddenly ten. Cold, talented, ruthless, and about to spill blood. She stared down at the woman, who was struggling to stand up, and little Natalia calmly took out a knife and slit her throat quickly, efficiently, precisely, like how she was taught in the Red Room. The Red Room, which had given her life and a sense of purpose, but had also doomed her to a certain fate. She was back in the Red Room, and she was six again and there was so much pain and blood and screaming and terror and cold and dark and she couldn't catch her breath and there were people all around her and was that a knife and-_

Natasha sat up with a gasp, but the handcuff dragged her back down and wrenched her back towards the mattress and she bit her tongue to stop screaming. The bitter, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and her face was wet with tears. Heart racing, she angrily scrubbed at her face, mentally berating herself for allowing these emotions. She suddenly heard footsteps and thought, "Stupid stupid of course her teammates would come stupid Jarvis and Stark for monitoring people and stupid emotions and worry and everything's stupid stupid dammit dammit get off stupid handcuff" while yanking at her handcuff and scrambling to find the key. The door burst open and she saw five worried faces staring at her and her handcuffed wrist was right there out in the open and she just stared at them and muttered, "Um... hey. Technical difficulties and all." before unlocking them and rubbing her wrist.

Clint cautiously inched over and asked, "Are you okay, Natasha? Why were you handcuffed?"

Natasha just sighed and said, "I'm fine. Go back to bed guys."

Stark just furrowed his eyebrows and retorted, "That doesn't explain why you have handcuffs, Romanoff. And why we heard screaming."

They all stared at her expectantly, waiting for a response. She winced and replied. Just a nightmare, guys. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you crying Romanoff? And you still didn't answer the handcuffs question."

Natasha glared at Tony and said in a low voice. "Why do you care? Mind your own fucking business, Stark! I swear you ask another question and I'll kill you right here right now slowly and painfully and you'll regret every single minute of it." Tony slunk back and whispered, "Holy Shit." She gritted her teeth and couldn't believe that she had lost control of her emotions. She desperately look at Clint for help, who was the only one who had any idea of what was happening, unfortunately. Clint sighed and said, "Guys, let Nat have a few minutes, and then we can talk about it, okay? Tash, you'll have to tell them, you can't keep this away from them forever if you want them to completely have your back. I'll help you with whatever you need, alright?"

The broken woman just looked down and whispered, "Fine."

The team met together in the living room. Natasha couldn't look at anybody in the eye, and muttered a quick apology to Tony.

Tony still had wide eyes and was clutching a glass of scotch.

She sighed. "I guess I should owe all of you guys an apology. When...I was four years old my parents were murdered in a fire and I was brought to the Red Room. I'm sure that you guys all know what the Red Room is. No explanation needed." Everybody nodded.

"The Red Room had a program that was designed to form little girls into master assassins. The ones that lived through the harsh "training" regimen were able to earn the title Black Widow. I was the youngest, but that meant that I had to work harder. No mercy for anybody, really. We trained in seduction, murder, interrogation, torture, we were often forced to fight and kill each other. We were brainwashed, tortured until we showed no visible response to pain, we were forced to fight almost naked in the snow, we were forced through horrors that even most minds can't even think of. Out of maybe 100 girls? I was the only one in that "class" who graduated. The graduation ceremony wasn't anything special, they just cut me open and sterilized me. At least they had the forethought of putting me to sleep first."

Steve was looking a little bit green, Thor was frowning, and Bruce opened, then closed his mouth.

"To answer your question, Tony, the Red Room would handcuff us to our beds to make sure that we couldn't escape. I guess, old habits die hard." Natasha smiled weakly.

Tony buried his head in his hands, and muttered, "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to push you that far. I mean, you're not the only one with problems, and I know that, but I just assumed-I didn't know what I was thinking and I still don't and-"

Natasha grimaces, closed her eyes and leaned against Clint. "I'm sure we've all ogt problems, Stark. Don't worry your pretty head about it."

Thor suddenly stood up, and said, "Friends, I suggest that we all go to sleep right now, and talk about our problems tomorrow, if that's all right with you, Lady Natasha."

Natasha nodded, grateful for the interruption. Tony looked up and said in a small voice, "Sleepover?" Steve looked confused, and Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You want all of us to sleep here, in this small of a space? We're going to have to rearrange the furniture." Steve mimed an "Oh!" and said, "I'll help! Come on, Thor!"

While Steve and Thor started to move the furniture around, the rest of the Avengers started to gather blankets and pillows and other things essential for sleeping. Clint followed Natasha to her room, and leaned against the doorway as she looked at her handcuffs, uncertainly.

"Hey, don't worry about it, Tasha. We're all here for you, especially me."

"Yeah, well I'm not used to having people backing me up. I guess I could become used to it." She offered him a small smile. Clint stepped forward and engulfed her in a warm hug, and she leaned her head against his chest. "Thanks Clint."

Sometime near noon, Pepper wandered in and froze at the sight of all of the Avengers cuddled around each other like children, sleeping peacefully. In a way, this was the childhood that most of them didn't have. They all were, really, children at heart who were never allowed to grow up properly. She looked at them with a content grin, quickly snapped a picture of them, and tiptoes back to her office to start on paperwork.


End file.
